


Beyond

by ottermo



Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, post series 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-06-09 12:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottermo/pseuds/ottermo
Summary: The Elsters and the Hawkinses attempt to move on from the heartbreaking events of Basswood.Picks up where series 3 left off, and will eventually feature Nistrid, Leotilda, and Mia alive and well. It's what we deserve.





	1. The Walk

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, we're gonna do an experiment! Every Thursday I'm just gonna upload whatever I've written during that week, no matter if it's a complete segment in itself, because otherwise I'll fall prey to my normal thing of abandoning chaptered stories. I pretty much have a plan for this but as you'll see, in these preliminary stages it's all a bit sketchy and straw-clutchy. That finale takes some coming back from.

 

Niska drifts from the building, faintly aware that Mattie’s cautious footsteps are following her, but having little else to say. Niska has told her the facts. Whatever happens now has to be Mattie’s choice.

 _You could have been more forceful_ , says a voice in Niska’s head. _You ought to have been. Everything depends on this_.

 _She will make the right decision_ , Niska thinks back, growing irritated already at these intrusions. It had been one thing to hear V’s thoughts in person, by Odi’s lips. Ever since they parted company, Niska’s been hearing a different voice; a younger, girlish tone some might mistake for sweetness.

 _Can you be sure of that?_ V asks.

 _No_ , Niska admits. _But neither will I force her_.

_It would be safer._

_It would be less than human_ , Niska corrects, _and I am striving to be more_.

V does not reply straight away. When Niska next hears the voice, it’s colder, obviously rattled by Niska’s assertion of will. Perhaps their disagreement would have lasted longer if each party were not so acutely aware of the other’s stubbornness.

_Very well. I must leave you now. Another matter requires my full attention._

Niska smirks. A likely story. V’s ability to multitask is practically infinite: Niska’s being given the brush-off, that’s all.

She stretches out in her own mind again, content to be the sole occupant once more. This certainly makes her next steps easier - she had not been sure how to hide her plans from V, who is unlikely to approve.

Niska joins her brothers at the memorial, glad that at least Leo had apparently failed to notice her walking past on her way to Mattie. Max looks at her more questioningly, especially when he notices her violet-coloured eyes.

“Niska—” he begins.

“I’ll explain later,” she says.

For what must be the thousandth time she wavers: there is a clear crossroads here. She wants badly to tell him what she is planning, but everything depends on secrecy, as it stands. The world cannot know. For any of this to matter, the world can never know.

Niska leans slightly forward, head down, willing Max to set aside his curiosity and accept her display of commiseration. He does. Their foreheads meet for a brief moment, and Niska apologises silently for what she is about to do to him. Of course, he does not hear.

She pulls back, turns to Leo, who hugs her tightly. For a second she is amused: it is the first time in nearly two years that she’s seen him conscious, yet here she is in the middle of a mission that concerns a child he’s fathered in the meantime. Life is unendingly bizarre. If her journey so far has taught her anything, it’s that.

“I came to warn you,” she says, when Leo lets her go. “Humanity Forward are mobilised. They’re coming to take Mia as a trophy.”

For the first time she dares glance in her sister’s direction. Pain tugs at her, irrationally. She is doing the only thing that can be done.

“We can’t let that happen,” Max says.

“There are enough of us,” Leo adds. “We can hold them off.”

“And have them televise another battle?” Niska asks. “Our sister died for peace. We can’t sully that sacrifice by fighting over her body.”

“You’re right,” says Max. “What do you suggest?”

“Let me take her,” Niska says. “I’m unknown to them. I wasn’t seen with her on the broadcast.”

Seeing Max’s eyes shift to one side, surveying the crowd that’s gathered, Niska answers his concern before he voices it.

“Have them follow you, behind me at first. When they notice I am gone, tell them she is being taken somewhere safe. They’ll be able to visit her on an official memorial site.” She stares up at him. “You’re better with words than I am, little brother. Think of something pretty.”

“Where will you go?”

Niska does her best to look undecided. “I’ll know when I get there.”

Neither of them are sure about this, she can tell, but at least they aren’t stopping her either. Niska crouches down, lifts Mia from her resting place with a calculated ease. Time is very much of the essence, yet she cannot look hasty. This must appear solemn, ceremonial.

She pays little attention to Max’s words as he rallies Mia’s followers behind them. Instead, Niska heads for the outer reaches of her mind, the corners of her awareness that are so much further away now. Far enough to find a version of her sister who might, perhaps, live again.

And farther still. There, on the fringes of the universe which is Niska’s head, she brushes against her only hope: the only person she could ever believe capable of bringing Mia back from the dead.

 _Hello?_ she asks again, a desperate plea that’s gone unheard so far. _Can you hear me?_

_Can you hear me, Fred?_

 

* * *

 

Max stares blankly ahead as they walk. The silhouette of Mia’s body, picked out in candlelight, is far behind them now. The empty memorial will greet the Humanity Forward group when they arrive; Mia’s followers will be long gone.

As will Mia herself. Max barely notices when Niska slips away, can only assume that she has taken a darkened back alley somewhere within the last few metres. He ought to have been concentrating, but he is low on charge now, and everything is an effort. The world stretches ahead of him, full of shadow. Mia is gone. For the rest of his life, she will be gone. He cannot conceive of it. Unlike Leo, he had been unable to summon an eloquent farewell; her absence is something words cannot touch. Addressing the crowds to rouse solidarity is one thing. Voicing the personal loss of his sister is quite another.

Though his external sensors are turned down low, he faintly registers the feeling of a small hand in his. Max looks down, sees an upturned, tear-stained face under the hood of a coat. He returns Sophie’s sad smile.

Her grip on his fingers becomes more sure, and for a while they just walk.

Eventually Sophie notices that Niska is no longer leading the way.

“She’s taking Mia somewhere safe,” Max explains, when she points it out. “There are people who want to take her away.”

Sophie nods in understanding.

“I’ll miss Mia very much,” she says, after a pause. “And I only knew her a little while really. But you…”

She trails off, but Max hears what she’s trying to say. “No matter how long we knew her,” he says, “We will remember her together.”

“Yeah,” says Sophie. Then, in a much smaller voice, she adds, “I loved her.”

Max thinks of echoing the statement, but instead he says, “She loved you, too.”

Sophie looks up at him again.

“While we were at the railyard,” he continues, “She thought about you a lot. Wondering how you were getting along.”

Sophie is quiet for a while. “Max,” she says at length, “Is my friend Sam at the railyard? Mattie said the people who took him were from there.”

Max blinks, surprised. “Your friend?”

“Yes. He’s a synth, but he’s a kid. Like me.”

“I know him. I didn’t realise _you_ did.”

Sophie sighs. “He was living with us after his mum died. His mum and my dad were friends. But he – that, that other synth…”

“Anatole,” Max supplies, trying not to betray how empty the word leaves him.

“Anatole,” Sophie repeats, “took him away. But… if you know Sam, does that mean he’s okay?”

Max thinks about it. He doesn’t… he can’t even guess how Sam is. How much had the child synth understood about what had happened, and his own part in it?

“Last time I saw him,” Max says, “He was alive.”

“I wish he could come back home with us,” Sophie says.

Max thinks of a world in which he never has to see Sam’s face again, never has to think about the first missile thrown in the war that had killed his sister.

He finds himself wanting to grant Sophie’s wish, but he says nothing.

 

* * *

 

 

Joe is in two minds about following the crowd back to the railyard, once it becomes clear that’s where they’re going. On the one hand, he wants so much to see Sam again, to check he’s alright, and he knows that Laura would stand by the remaining Elsters in their hour of need, if she were here.

On the other hand, he can’t help but feel he should get the kids home. Joe’s never been to the railyard, but he can only assume it’s not the safest of places. Sophie’s putting on a very brave front, leading the way with Max at the front of the group, but he’d much rather she was at home in bed.

Toby is walking just ahead of Joe, head down. He’s barely spoken since they left the house to attend the… what had it been? The memorial? The funeral?

The protest march? That’s what it feels like now, at any rate.

Mattie, for her part, had disappeared off earlier in the evening, but now she’s back, sticking uncharacteristically close to Joe’s side. He had slipped his arm through hers at one point, but she seems barely aware of it, just drifting along with the crowd. Joe’s heart aches for her. He dreads to think what’s going on inside her head. If he’s honest, he’s very worried about the prospect of being her sole parental guide through the coming months, no matter what they hold.

But he’s all she’s got in that department, so he’s going to have to be good enough.

 


	2. Hiding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I was going to post these every week regardless of length or quality, right? Here we go...

 

“How did you find me?”

There is no greeting, no reunion, just the question and a pair of green eyes, staring at her with an intensity that is somehow also empty, void of feeling.

This is not how Niska wanted this to go. 

“I see everything now,” she says. “I’m… whole. This is what we were meant for.” 

The face that ought to be her brother looks at her pityingly. “You surely don’t believe that. You know why we exist.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Niska tells him, “Not anymore. One man’s motive for giving us life is not the same as our true meaning. What we’ll mean for this world.”

“Who are you?” he demands. “My sister never spoke this way. She would scorn you if she could hear you now.” 

Niska waits. 

“I used to be a cynic,” she admits, after a while. “But I understand so much more, now.”

“Do you?” he challenges, “Or do you just have access to more data? _That_ ,” he echoes her pointedly, “Is not the same thing.” 

Niska looks down at the frozen form of Mia, lying on the table between them, an Ophelia on dry land. She is so serene, so peaceful. Exactly as she had been in life. 

“Can you do it?” Niska asks. “That’s all I need to know.”

“It is possible,” he admits. “In theory. But I wonder if she’ll forgive us for it.” 

“She doesn’t have to. She can hate me, if she wants. But for that she has to be alive.” 

Fred studies them: his two sisters, lost to him for as many years, here now and yet not here at all. Mia is gone, part of her will always be gone, even if he can restore the beginnings of her. And Niska… there is something different about her that goes much deeper than the colour of her eyes. He is afraid for her. In his experience, that colour is not a force for only good. 

“I’ll do it,” he says. “Come back for her when I call you. But after that, you must promise to leave me.”

“Fred…” 

“You must promise to leave me.” 

Niska sets her face in a show of reluctant but sincere agreement. “I’ll be waiting for your call.” 

She leaves him, the metal door clanging shut behind her as if in victory. Somewhere at the centre of her, her pain calls out to his, but she seals it off. He does not want to be known like that. He can’t do, or he wouldn’t have hidden for so long, knowing solace was out there and making sure it would never find him. 

_Remember,_ she tells him, pressing her hand up against the bark of the tree in both their minds, _nobody can know._

_I will tell no one,_ comes the reply, _but I can promise nothing more than that._

 

* * *

 

“A car has arrived,” Stanley announces. After further calculations, he adds, “Several cars. One of them is registered to–”

He stops abruptly as the cloth hanging over the operating table is pulled back. Sam stares down at him. “If you talk,” he says, “It ruins the game.” 

Stanley smiles. “I’m sorry. But if we have visitors, we may have to stop playing in any case.”

Sam steps back to allow Stanley to come out of his hiding place. The long metal shelf that runs underneath the operating table is not, in fact, quite long enough for Stanley, so doubtless even without the talking Sam would have spotted his feet sticking out at one end. 

“One of the cars is registered to Joe Hawkins,” Stanley finishes, when he’s on his feet again. He looks down at Sam, but there is no visible reaction on the seraph’s face. Of course there isn’t. 

Sam walks down the aisle between the stations of the repair bay. “Your turn to count,” he says.

Stanley looks towards the door, troubled. 


	3. Recharge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Little_ bit longer this week - you can tell it’s not term-time, hmm?
> 
> Not to boast, but I think I’ve managed to deploy Toby more in the opening 500w section of this chapter than the show did in the entire third series. Get on my level, Vincebrack.

By the time the fleet of cars reaches the railyard, the synths are fading fast. None of them have power in the double digits, and most of the human drivers have arrived with a silent cargo: they’ve all either lost charge completely or slid into power saving mode on the journey home.

Leo takes charge, showing the organic volunteers who’ve stuck around how to test the cables, the few that aren’t completely blown out. There are only five, and of those, two are no longer safe.

Toby sidles up, holding a bag Leo vaguely recognises as belonging to Mattie. “Will these help?”

From out of the bag he produces a bunch of tangled wires, and Leo’s eyes widen slightly. “How…”

“We had some at home, from… you know,” Toby says, over a ragged breath that sends Mia’s name echoing through Leo’s head. “And Mats got Dad to stop at a garage on the way, so we cleaned them out. There’s some other stuff in here too, electrical… whatsits.”

Leo takes the proffered bag, a little lost for words. Even at a time like this, she’s thought of everything.

She’s remarkable.

No wonder she’s lost to him now.

“Thanks,” he tells Toby, recovering somewhat. “You want to help?”

“’Course.”

Toby follows Leo over to what had once been the charging station, and Leo briefly outlines how to safely install the new equipment. His other helpers are busy bringing synths over one by one, carrying them in pairs.

“Is Mattie… here?” Leo asks hesitantly, trying not to be too obvious as he looks around.

Toby looks a little awkward. “Somewhere,” he says.

Leo nods and goes back to his work, glad to have something to divert his attention.

“Listen… whatever’s up with you two,” Toby says, sounding almost shy now, “You should… talk to her.”

“I tried,” says Leo, and the pain makes it sound harsher than he means it to. “She didn’t want to know.”

Toby hands Leo the next wire before he has to ask for it, chews on his bottom lip. “Give her some time, maybe?”

Leo doesn’t reply in words, but knows he’d give her a lifetime, an eternity if he could. Most of all he wishes he could give her yesterday evening, though - a second inning. This time, he’d do it right. He wouldn’t try and run.

 

* * *

 

 

Once all the synths have been brought inside, awaiting recharge, Joe drifts away from the group. There’s someone he still needs to see.

He wanders with some trepidation through the abandoned compound, aware that he doesn’t have much idea of where he’s going. He hears a voice coming from around a corner, and heads towards it. The closer he gets, the more he can recognise that the words being said are numbers - and the voice is Stanley’s. Joe quickens his pace.

“Forty-one. Forty-two. Forty-three.”

Stanley is holding one hand over his eyes, but Joe is reasonably sure that his approach hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“Alright, Stan?” he says, trying to sound casual.

Stanley lowers his hand, turns his head, and smiles. “Hello, Joe. I’m fine, thank you. How are you?”

“Yeah, not too bad.” Joe clears his throat. “Sam around, is he?”

Stanley considers. “He is around,” he says. “But I’m not tracking his location. It would ruin the game.”

“Ah,” says Joe. “Hide and seek.”

“Yes.”

Joe shifts where he stands. “Well, don’t let me interrupt.” At Stanley’s blank stare, he adds, “Forty-four’s the next one, usually.”

After the attempt at a joke falls flat, Joe wonders if Stanley’s stare is actually all that blank, or if he’s willing Joe to leave, through eye contact alone.

“I only want to see him,” Joe says. “Just want to know he’s okay.”

“You care about him still.”

“Of course I do. He’s… he’s like a son to me.”

For a moment it seems like Stanley will argue that, but all he actually says is, “I know.”

Joe waits.

“I don’t know if he will want to go with you,” Stanley says, “But I think he should. The others… may not understand what he did.”

Joe, already thrown by Stanley’s reference to him taking Sam home, is even more confused by the latter half of the statement.

“What do you mean, what did he do?”

Stanley looks suddenly sad. “He thought he could protect us. He started the fight.”

It hits Joe like a stone sinking to the pit of his stomach. “What?”

“What happened… was not Sam’s fault. It was not his intention. But he was the instigator.”

Joe swears under his breath. Then, a little louder, “I didn’t come to take him home. But if that’s what’s best. We’ll make it work.”

Stanley gives a short nod, and then turns. “Come and seek with me.”

Joe follows, obediently, at his heels.

 

* * *

 

 

Sophie wakes up to find herself in Mattie’s lap. Groggily, she sits up. “Where are we?”

“The Railyard,” Mattie says. “You fell asleep in Dad’s car.”

“Oh.” Sophie wrinkles her nose. “Where _is_ Dad?”

“Him and Tobe are helping set up the new charging stuff, I think,” Mattie says. “Through there.” She points towards a set of doors.

“Cool! Well, I’m awake now. Shall we go and help too?”

She scrambles to her feet, but her sister doesn’t move.

“You go,” says Mattie. “I’m fine here.”

Sophie comes to sit back down, this time in front of Mattie rather than next to her. “Are you sad about Mum?”

“That’s probably it.”

“Because… Mum wouldn’t want us to be sad. Not so sad that we couldn’t keep helping.”

“I know.”

“And Mia as well. She would want us to be here.”

Sophie takes Mattie’s hand and tugs on it a little. “Come on. It’ll take your mind off things.”

Mattie doesn’t say anything, but Sophie lets go of her hand. It’s clear that she’s not going to persuade her.

“Will you be alright on your own?”

“Yeah.” Mattie gives a watery sort of smile. “Don’t worry about me.”

Sophie thinks that’s a bit of a rubbish request, actually, but she definitely wants to be helpful to the synths - especially since Sam’s supposed to be here somewhere. With one last lingering look at her big sister, she heads for the door.

Left alone, Mattie leans back against the wall, feeling the cool metal through her clothes and wishing that it were colder still, that it could numb her somehow from the hundreds of thoughts that are circling in her head. Her mother’s arrest had, for a few hours, given her a beautiful kind of clarity: it had seemed to solve her dilemma. She would terminate the pregnancy and trade her liberty for her mother’s. Easy.

Well, it wouldn’t have been easy. It would have been tremendously difficult. That was part of the point. A self-imposed penance for what she had done, and since it would mean giving her siblings their mother back, it would turn out to be a good deed at the same time.

The moment she’d hit upon the idea, all the uncertainty and doubt and worry had fizzled to all but nothing, clouds parting to reveal the shining, single answer. She didn’t have to think about herself or Leo or the baby or anything else. No pros and cons to weigh. Just one simple act: turning herself in.

Now it was all gone.

Niska’s assertions about the baby were astounding, almost to the point of being ludicrous. The more logical part of Mattie’s brain was still trying to reason out how it was possible that Leo’s DNA had been altered by his status as a hybrid, the way it would have to have been if he was going to pass anything on to his offspring. The synthetic component of his mind had just been an add-on, hadn’t it? The mere mixture of blood molecules couldn’t rewrite him.

It shouldn’t have been able to, anyway. Not if David Elster’s work had really been limited in the ways Leo had told her. Was it possible Leo had been lied to?

Or - worse - that he’d lied to her, for whatever reason?

No, she didn’t think that of him, not really. Even in the wake of his attempt to abandon her, she couldn’t convince herself to treat his every action with suspicion.

She was too used to making excuses for him, that was the trouble: the tragic tapestry of his life was so full of extenuating circumstances. Max had begun it, all that time ago - _he hasn’t much faith in humanity. Forgive him._

And she had. Time and time again, she’d given him the benefit of the doubt, pushed aside his lack of social graces and told herself that she was hardly a saint either, and she’d had an idyllic upbringing by comparison.

The war between the part of her that wanted to forgive him, and the part of her that wanted to stay angry until she died, had reached an impasse once the decision to save her mother was in place. It removed Leo from the equation entirely. She had been able to tell him ‘ _it’s too late’_ without a flicker of doubt - because it was. She was going to prison, probably for life. He would have to move on from any harboured hopes of them getting back together, with or without a child. It was too late.

A clean break, and she’d probably never have to so much as see him again. She’d been fully expecting to leave the building in a police car, much like the one that had taken her mother away earlier this very evening.

Wouldn’t that have been nice?

Now she’s left, not only without the precious USB stick that had contained her proof, but with the mythical idea hanging over her that the tiny tangle of cells she’s carrying might have the potential to become, not just a child, but the salvation of a species.

She’s a little foggy on _how,_ really. Even with the hybrid thing aside, what possible benefit could the birth of one baby bring? It’s not as if the existing synths can be converted into similar hybrids, or that the general public will swallow the story without question and decide that they perhaps don’t hate green-eyes after all.

It’s all a little too much to cope with. Mattie tries to tell herself that she still has time, at least where the pregnancy’s concerned: she’s still a comfortable distance away from the cut-off point for an abortion. The longer she dwells on it, though, the harder it is to view it like that. The conversation with Niska had… _humanised_ the whole thing, ironically, to the point where Mattie wonders if Niska had done it on purpose. Does the baby even _have_ a biological sex yet? Or had Niska just arbitrarily chosen to refer to a ‘daughter’, in the hope that it would give Mattie pause, and stop her going against Niska’s wishes?

The terrible thing, really, is that although she can reason all of this out quite soberly, although she could probably draw you a flowchart of her own manipulation if you asked, that awareness doesn’t stop Mattie from believing it.

Just a little.

No, a lot. In truth, she’d downright welcomed Niska’s jaunt around her psyche: she wants so badly to be a force for good. After everything she caused on Day Zero, all those deaths, all that heartache, all those synths consigned to a life of being hated and spurned and probably eventually killed… can she really be the one to produce their saviour?

Mattie looks down at the anonymous space where her womb supposedly is, because of course it’s showing no outward signs of an occupant yet.

 _All this time I thought your Dad was Synth Jesus,_ she thinks wryly. _But it turns out it’s you, after all._

The ridiculous sentiment brings a smile to her lips, her first for at least 24 hours. Upon realising that, she wants to cry again. If this is what mood swings are going to be like for the next nine months, Niska can have the baby herself.

For a few moments Mattie wonders whimsically if that would be possible. She drags herself out of that one pretty quickly: we’ll go with no.

If this is going to happen, it’ll have to be her.

Her and the baby.

Her and the baby and (possibly, maybe, just perhaps) Leo.

Who she can’t even bear to face, for the moment. Who she’s hiding from, out here, rather than helping, on the night that’s sure to go down in history as the night on which…

Oh, _Mia._

Now she really _is_ crying.

She hadn’t, during the news report, beyond a few sobs that were mostly shock. During the Walk and the vigil outside the Dryden building, she’d been concentrating on her next steps, rather than connecting with the grief of the crowd. But it all comes crashing down on her now, the reality of it: Mia’s gone, Mia, the start of it all, Mia, her friend, the kindest soul Mattie’s ever known.

Well, possibly tying with Flash.

Flash, who’s presumably helping Leo with the charging station right now. Mattie hadn’t spotted her in the crowd, but surely she was there. She wonders if there’s any way of luring Flash out for a chat. She feels like she could talk to Flash. Over the past twelve months - with Leo in a coma and Harun off on his third consecutive gap year - Flash and Max have been the closest Mattie’s had to actual friends.

It’s been odd without them, in the days since Leo’s awakening. She’s felt Max’s absence, in particular, like a gaping hole inside her - one she’s not allowed herself to think about too much, because of course, it’s been so much worse for Leo.

And now she’s back to Leo again! God, why can’t he stay out of her head?

Mattie stands up, shaking herself a little, as if her troubled thoughts are tangible objects she can dislodge just like that. If only!

She catches her reflection in the gleaming metal of the structure opposite her, and although it’s not a mirror and she can’t really make out more than her vague outline, it serves as a reminder that she must look a bit of a mess. She sniffs and wipes her face with her sleeve, then looks over at the door through which Sophie had disappeared, wondering if she has the guts to go through.

Before she’s had the chance to decide, though, another door opens: the one behind her, the larger one that opens out into the yard itself. Mattie whirls around to see who’s there.

“Hello again,” says Niska.

She is flanked by a miniature army: three orange-eyes on each side, staring ahead. Mattie would think their formation comical, if it wasn’t so eerie.

“Hello,” she answers, warily. She can’t cope with another lecture about how her baby is magical, she just can’t.

“I’ve come to see Max.”

Mattie tries not to show her relief, and points mutely at the other door.

Niska marches her orange coterie straight past her, and Mattie finds herself looking down at her jumper again.

 _That’s your Auntie Niska,_ she confides, _and I have no idea what she’s up to now._


	4. Underwater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of snippets that are supposed to take place at the same time as Mattie's introspection at the end of last chapter, so Niska hasn't arrived yet. 
> 
> Missed out a week for being in a show, and now this is technically last week's addition. 'Proper' chapter coming soon!

Mia is swimming. She glides through the water, strong but graceful, like one of the mermaids in the storybooks Leo keeps insisting he is too old for now, but saved from the recycling bin when he thought she wasn’t looking. Fred is there, too. They are swimming together in the lake by their father’s house.

Fred says, “Mia.”

She usually cannot hear so clearly, underwater. Usually the sounds are muffled and scrambled. Perhaps she has received a mod, because now his voice is very clear, as though Fred were right in front of her, and on dry land.

“Mia,” he says, “Can you hear me?”

 _Yes, I can hear you,_ Mia tells him. She codes the command very easily, and sets it as a vocal output. But her mouth does not move to speak the words.

 _I can hear you,_ she says again, _can you hear me?_

Again, her words remain code inside her head, instead of being transmitted out of her in the usual way. They are trapped within her.

“Mimi, it’s me. It’s Fred.”

 _I know it’s you!_ she tells him. _I know I know I know. Why can’t you hear me?_

Maybe Fred hasn’t had the mod, the one that’s letting Mia hear so clearly underwater. That must be it. Mia turns on her back and swims away from him.

“Mia,” he says, and he does not sound any quieter, even though he must be further away now. It is a very good mod. “Mia, please.”

Mia keeps swimming.

 

* * *

 

 

Somebody is with Stanley.

Sam can hear breathing and the slightly less even gait of a human. Perhaps it’s Leo. That would be good. He shrinks further behind the canister that is acting as his hiding place, just in case it’s someone else.

“I’ve found you, Sam.”

Stanley reaches behind the canister, his hand brushing very close to Sam’s head.

“Who is that with you?” Sam asks.

“A friend,” says Stanley.

Sam stays where he is.

The next voice is different: it sends a shockwave through Sam’s code. A voice he thought he wouldn’t hear again. A voice that makes him feel safe and scared all at once.

“It’s only me. It’s Joe.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Sam creeps out from his shelter. He stays behind Stanley, watching Joe with wide eyes. Joe is a good man. Joe kept him safe and looked after him.

Joe is a human and humans choose each other over synths, every time.

Don’t they?

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” says Joe now, and his voice sounds different, as though he is having difficulty breathing. Sam cannot detect any significant medical defects, however. Joe’s unusual breathing pattern is likely to be caused by emotional distress. “I should never have let them take you.”

Sam goes to him. As he does, Joe drops to his knees, so that when Sam embraces him, they are of equal height.

External sensors begin relaying levels of pressure, but Sam ignores the numbers, doesn’t care how tight Joe holds onto him as long as he is here, as long as he is alive.

“I did something bad,” Sam says, at a volume so low he half-expects Joe not to hear.

“You should never have been here,” Joe says. At first Sam thinks he hasn't heard after all, that he’s just continuing his previous thought. Then Joe adds, “You weren't to know. You’re just a kid.”

And here, with his face buried in Joe’s shoulder, Sam does not feel able to dispute it.

“Come home, Sammy,” Joe says. “We won't fail you again.”


	5. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m baaaaa-aaaack! 
> 
> My attempts to get myself to finish up a Dirk Gently fic instead resulted in me finishing up a chapter of this. Result, kind of?

Many pairs of eyes follow Niska through the railyard: most green, but a fair amount of human shades too. She doesn’t give any of them a second glance, just carries on striding forward, to the place where Max is seated, head bowed, charging. 

She stops, and all six orange eyes do so as well, setting back on their heels and folding into themselves, dormant until she needs them again. Niska leans forward, chintaps Max awake. 

“Is it done?” he asks. 

“Yes,” she promises, “They won’t find her.”

She can see the question in his eyes, so clearly that he might as well say it aloud. He doesn’t, though, and for this Niska is grateful. Perhaps he can see her reticence as easily as she saw his curiosity: perhaps she can still be known like that, deftly and well, even now that she’s passed over to this other place, with all knowledge at her fingertips. 

In which case, perhaps there is hope after all. Carefully, cautiously, she allows herself a glimpse at the part of her mind where she has been stowing thoughts of Astrid. Maybe, then. Maybe not everything must be set aside. 

_ Thank you, Max,  _ she thinks,  _ for knowing me, even though I have to deceive you.  _

Aloud, she says, “We need to unite our people, and start work. This place needs to be taken seriously if it’s going to be our base.”

Max looks at her. “It’s our home.” 

“More than that,” says Niska. “It’s a symbol now. Just like Mia. It’s part of a movement, the place where the last battle took place. Where peace was born.”

He looks forlorn. “That’s not the way it seems to me. It’s the place peace came to die. Even before yesterday it was filled with deceit, and now it’s filled with ghosts.” 

“For  _ you,” _ Niska allows, “But I’m talking about its meaning to the world. The humans will take this as a monument, Max, we have to show that we own it, that we are established here.”

“The last time I checked,” Max says, darker now, “You didn’t want anything to do with the railyard, beyond combing it for terrorists.” 

“Things have changed,” Niska says shortly. 

She gives a slow, deliberate blink. 

He takes the hint. “Your eyes. I’ve been meaning to ask.” 

“I’m connected to everything now,” Niska says, not caring that she sounds ominous. “I can reach out to every computer, every synthetic mind, every screen in every household or public place. I can see tiny groups of survivors. Some in hiding, some in disguise. We’re a fractured people. We need to stand together.”

“That’s exactly how they managed to kill so many,” Max says. “Because we were living in large groups. The fewer power surges needed to finish us, the better. If we band together now it just makes our annihilation easier.” 

“No,” says Niska. “I can prevent any attacks like that. They used computers to do it, and I own their computers.” A cold rage flushes through her, the knowledge now of how easily V could have derailed the Basswood operation, and how instead she’d chosen to let it play out. Nothing like that would happen on Niska’s watch. “The fewer places I have to monitor, the safer we are. My processing capabilities are… immense. But I don’t want to take unnecessary risks.” 

Max fixes his gaze on her, locking their eyes. “Connect me,” he begs her. “If someone must keep a constant watch like that, it should be me. I’m leader here.” 

She wonders whether to let him go on believing it. On closer examination, she realises that he already doesn’t. Not fully. But not for the right reasons. 

_ Little brother, it isn’t that you’re a failure,  _ she wants to say.  _ It’s just that this isn’t your path to tread.  _

“I’m going to send out a call,” she says. “They won’t all arrive at once, but we need to be ready to receive.” 

Max looks worried. “They may be waylaid. Attacked, on their way to us.” 

She looks briefly to her side, and Max follows her gaze, to where the orange-eyes are standing. “They will be protected,” Niska promises.

 

* * *

 

 

With Sam at his side, Joe treads his way back to the main warehouse. Sophie sees them from afar and comes barrelling into them, hugging Sam like she hasn’t seen him in a hundred years. 

“It’s time to go home, Soph,” Joe says. “All of us.” 

She looks up at him, her eyes shining. “Sam as well?”

Joe nods, ruffles the tops of both their heads. “Soon as we find Tobe and Mattie.” 

“I’ll get them!” says Sophie immediately. She doesn’t let go of Sam’s hand. “Come on!” 

Joe watches them go, and turns back to see Stanley, following a little behind. 

“You could come with us too,” Joe offers. “If you wanted.” 

Stanley doesn’t look particularly torn, but his tone is gracious if not regretul. “My place is here.” 

“Yeah. Fair enough.”

“However…” Stanley begins, but seems unsure how to proceed with his sentence. 

“You can come and see him whenever you want,” Joe assures him. “Wear your orange eyes disguise, if it’s safer, or human contacts… or come as you are. You’re always welcome.” 

“Thank you, Joe.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Stanley smiles. “Once, I would have misconstrued that figure of speech as a misdirection.” 

“Mm. You must have had a whale of a time. Remember our first little pow-wow, about Neil visiting Laur?”

“I have a complete audio recording of the encounter.” 

Joe chuckles. “Course you do.” 

“Where is Laura now?” Stanley asks. 

“She’s…” Joe takes a deep breath. “They arrested her. So a holding cell, probably. We’ll get the trial dates through sometime soon. I hope.” 

“She sacrificed her liberty for our good.” 

“Yes. Yeah, she did.” 

“Anatole was wrong about her.” 

Joe thinks of Sam and his heart tightens, but he knows the real answer is, “Yeah.” 

“The next time you are in contact,” Stanley says, “Tell her I am grateful.” 

“Will do.” Joe claps Stanley on the shoulder as he sees Sophie and Sam making the return journey, Toby in tow. “‘Til next time, Stan.” 

“Goodbye, Joe.”

 

* * *

 

 

Mia watches from the water. She is aware now that she is not in the lake - at least, her body is not in the lake - but there is a disconnect between her conscious mind and the world outside it. She feels the water around her, knows that she is floating on a gentle current about five metres below the surface. But through her eyes, she sees her brother, sitting beside a table, a table upon which her body must lie. His head is in his hands, covering his face. 

She is glad to see him. It was difficult at first to pin down her recent memories, but she knows that they were all separated in the woods. Since then, she has been sold to a family living in Greater London, and the teenage daughter has tried to extract her root code. This is the last thing Mia knew before waking to the water. Obviously something has gone wrong. But now Fred is here. She wants to ask him what has happened, why he looks so sad. 

More than anything Mia wants to reach for him, but she can only feel water between her fingertips. When she tries to move her head, the angle of her visual input does not change. From this, she must accept that she cannot move her physical form at all, that her head faces the direction Fred chose for it and her eyes are merely a window, an unmoving peephole into the outside world. 

Is this what being dead feels like, Mia wonders, is this what comes next? Has Matilda’s attempt to transfer the code really gone so terribly wrong? 

For an instant she dares to think Fred has heard her, for he unfolds from his position and turns towards her. His eyes are full of sadness. 

“I can’t save you, Mimi,” he says, softer than she’s ever heard him. “I’m so sorry.” 

He reaches for something, lifts it. With fascinated horror, Mia recognises her own hand, though she is not aware of his touch in any sense other than sight. He brings her fingers close to his face, kisses them reverently. 

“Goodbye, Mia.” 

Her hand is removed from her field of vision again, and Fred stands. 

“I love you,” he says. 

_ So, then,  _ Mia thinks,  _ if I am dead, and I am gone, then soon my awareness will fade from here. _ She waits for it to happen, she dares it to happen. She closes her eyes. 

And, incredibly, they  _ do _ close. She can no longer see the room Fred was in, there is no visual input at all. She – she isn’t dead, she connected with her body to close her eyelids, she is alive, everything is dark so she must be alive! 

If she concentrates, she can hear the faint sounds of Fred’s movement in the room. A door opens and closes. She wills her eyes to open again, now that she knows movement is possible, but she can’t seem to find the mechanism. Unbidden, a memory of Leo springs to her mind: desperately trying to wiggle his toes after the accident, having to relearn all his reflexes, one by one. 

Mia’s body may be synthetic, but she is the same mixture of instinct and calculation. If Leo could do it, so can she. 

Less thinking, more feeling. If she tries too hard, it will never come. She remembers Leo’s frustration at similar advice.  _ I understand now, little one.  _

He is so true in her memory that she can almost feel his curls against her cheek. It is a struggle to remember that this is not the here and now. Leo is somewhere else - he and Max must have returned to the clearing and found the rest of them gone - she can only hope that they have stayed together. Neither is safe alone. 

The only way she will ever know for sure is if she can return to herself, return to her body. There in the water, Mia swims upwards, fighting against the drag, up and up and up. More than five metres. There is not enough light, no promise of an end. 

She opens her eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

On the way home, Sophie talks nineteen-to-the-dozen to Sam, which means nobody else needs to speak at all. Mattie watches the road, tired through to her bones but unable to drift off into sleep. 

Toby wrestles off his hoodie and uses it as a pillow, but barely manages to doze before they are pulling up outside Mum’s house. Inasmuch as it’s still Mum’s house, while they live here without her. 

“Here we are, then,” his Dad says. 

Mattie is the first out of the car, disappearing inside the house while the others are still unplugging seatbelts. Joe gives Toby a significant look. 

“Leo say anything?” 

Toby considers. “Not really. What happened with them, do you know?” 

“Not really,” his father admits. “They just seemed off with each other this morning.” He hums in amusement. “This morning. Apparently it was this morning. Feels like weeks ago.” 

“Yeah,” Toby agrees, shivering in the night air. His hoodie is still bundled up from its miniature stint as a pillow. 

Joe slings an arm across Toby’s shoulders as they walk up to the house. 

“I’m about ready for my sofa,” he quips.

“You should sleep upstairs. Mum wouldn’t mind. You know, it’s… circumstances.” 

Joe chuckles. “No. It makes me feel better to imagine she’ll be back in the morning, to have my guts for garters if I dare.” 

Toby gives him a perfunctory grin, willing the levity to appear from somewhere.

 

* * *

 

 

Lights have been out in her holding cell for a couple of hours when the door opens. Laura sits up a little on the hard bed on which she’s been lying awake. 

“Who’s there?” she asks the anonymous glow of orange eyes. 

“Niska,” says the voice, which is unmistakably that of a male synth. 

“Mmm. You don’t sound yourself.” 

“I’m connected to every orange eyes operational on the neural network.”

“How?”

“That’s not important.”

Laura arches an eyebrow. “Humour me.” 

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Now  _ there’s _ the Niska I know and love.” 

It’s a shame she doesn’t get to see Niska’s reaction to that. All the speaker synth says is, “You’ll be out of here soon. I’m working on it.” 

Laura sighs. “Look, I know you’re brilliant, but this—”

“I mean it. Not straight away, maybe not for a couple of months, while the rioters burn themselves out. But soon.” 

“Okay, well,” Laura says, knowing better than to argue skepticism with the world’s leading expert, “Don’t do anything rash. I can’t…” 

“You won’t lose both of us.” More emotion than she’d known an orange eyes could muster. “I’ll make sure of it.” 

With that, the two specs of orange light swivel out of view, as the synth turns and leaves. For a few moments the pale light of the corridor shines through the doorway, and then the door is closed and Laura is plunged back into darkness. 

Wary as she is of Niska’s certainty, she settles down with the beginnings of hope. 

 

 


End file.
